His name was Nathaniel

10

Nathaniel's days were a carefully choreographed routine, meticulously designed by his father to ensure that every moment was accounted for. There was little room for spontaneity, and even less for personal freedom. From the moment he woke up to the time he retired to bed, Nathaniel's life was dictated by a schedule that left no space for anything outside his father's control.

His mornings began early, often before the sun had fully risen. Greg would enter his room quietly, opening the heavy curtains to let in the first light of day. Nathaniel would rise, still groggy from the night before, his thoughts often lingering on Adaliya and the moments they had shared under the cover of darkness. But as soon as he was out of bed, the demands of his day would pull him back into the rigid structure of his life.

After dressing in the formal attire that was always laid out for him, Nathaniel would sit down to a solitary breakfast in the grand dining room. The table was too large for just one person, the silence too oppressive. His father was rarely present for these meals, preferring to start his day with meetings or other business matters. Nathaniel would eat in silence, the ticking of the grand clock on the wall the only sound accompanying him.

Once breakfast was over, the day's lessons began. Nathaniel had never attended a traditional school. Instead, private tutors came to the mansion to teach him everything he needed to know. His curriculum was demanding—literature, mathematics, science, history, and languages, all taught by stern-faced scholars who had little interest in anything beyond the material they were paid to impart. The lessons were intense, and Nathaniel often found it difficult to focus, his thoughts drifting to the world outside the mansion's walls, to the freedom he so desperately craved.

Yet, despite the rigidity of his schedule, Nathaniel had always excelled academically. His mind was sharp, and he absorbed information quickly, a trait that pleased his father. But the constant pressure to perform weighed heavily on him, leaving little room for joy or passion in his studies.

After lessons, Nathaniel would be subjected to a thorough health examination by the family doctor, who was almost as much a fixture in the mansion as Greg. These examinations had become a daily ritual ever since Nathaniel had begun showing signs of fatigue—fatigue that he knew was a result of his late-night escapades with Adaliya. The doctor, an older man with graying hair and a serious demeanor, would meticulously check his vitals, asking him questions about his sleep, his diet, his overall well-being.

Nathaniel hated these examinations. They made him feel like a specimen under a microscope, every part of him scrutinized for signs of weakness. The doctor would make notes in his thick medical journal, nodding gravely at the slightest anomaly. Nathaniel knew that his father was behind these daily check-ups, convinced that something was wrong with him, just as something had been wrong with his mother.

But Nathaniel had never felt more alive than he did during those moments of freedom with Adaliya. The fatigue was a small price to pay for the taste of the life he longed for, a life outside the oppressive walls of the mansion.

Once the examination was complete, Nathaniel would have a few hours of free time before dinner. This was the only part of the day that belonged to him, though even here, his activities were limited. He would often retreat to the mansion's extensive library, a grand room filled with towering shelves of books, many of which had likely not been touched in years. The scent of old paper and leather-bound volumes was comforting, and Nathaniel would lose himself in stories of far-off places, epic adventures, and lives that were so different from his own.

But recently, his thoughts had been occupied by something else—someone else. As he sat in the library one afternoon, a thick volume of poetry open in front of him, Nathaniel found himself thinking about his mother. It was a subject that had always been shrouded in mystery, one that his father refused to discuss.

He knew Greg was the only person who might have answers. The butler had been with the family for as long as Nathaniel could remember, serving both his parents before his mother's death. If anyone knew the truth, it would be him.

After his lessons were over and the doctor had left, Nathaniel approached Greg as the butler was busy organizing the day's mail in the study.

"Greg," Nathaniel began, his voice cautious, "can I ask you something?"

Greg looked up from his task, his expression calm but curious. "Of course, sir. What's on your mind?"

Nathaniel hesitated, unsure of how to frame his question. He didn't want to seem too eager, too desperate for information. "It's about my mother," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Greg's hands paused in their work, and for a moment, Nathaniel thought he saw a flicker of sadness in the older man's eyes. "What about her, sir?"

Nathaniel swallowed, trying to find the right words. "Father never talks about her. I barely know anything about her, except what little I can remember. But... I want to know more. What was she like?"

Greg set down the letters he had been sorting and turned his full attention to Nathaniel. "Your mother was a remarkable woman," he said softly. "She was kind, gentle, and had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease. She had a light in her that brightened every room she entered."

Nathaniel listened intently, absorbing every word. He had always imagined his mother as a distant, almost mythical figure, someone who existed only in faded photographs and hazy memories. But hearing Greg talk about her made her seem real, tangible in a way she had never been before.

"How did they meet?" Nathaniel asked, curious about the story of his parents' love, something he had never heard before.

Greg smiled, a rare expression for the usually reserved man. "Your parents met at a charity event in the city. Your father was already a successful businessman, well on his way to becoming the man he is today. Your mother was there with her family, a guest of some mutual friends. When they were introduced, it was as if the world around them disappeared. Your father was captivated by her from the moment he laid eyes on her. They were inseparable after that."

Nathaniel found it hard to believe that his stern, cold father could have ever been so enamored, so openly affectionate. "He must have really loved her," he said quietly.

"He did," Greg confirmed. "Your mother was the only person who could soften him, who could bring out a side of him that few people ever saw. She was his anchor, the one thing that made him truly happy. Her death... it changed him, Nathaniel. He's never been the same since."

Nathaniel felt a pang of sorrow, both for his father and for himself. He had never known his mother, not really, and yet she had shaped his life in ways he was only beginning to understand. "What about her illness?" he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension. "Do you know what happened to her?"

Greg's expression grew somber, and he shook his head. "The doctors never found a clear cause. It was something rare, something they didn't fully understand. She grew weaker over time, and eventually... she was gone. Your father was devastated. It's part of why he's so protective of you, Nathaniel. He's afraid of losing you the way he lost her."

Nathaniel's heart ached at the thought. His father's strictness, his constant surveillance—it all made sense now, even if it didn't make it any easier to bear. "Do you think... do you think I'll end up like her?"

Greg looked at Nathaniel with a steady gaze, his voice firm but kind. "I don't know, sir. But I do know that you're strong, stronger than you realize. And you have people who care about you, who will do everything they can to help you. You're not alone, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel nodded, though the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on him. As he left the study and returned to the library, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was on a path he couldn't fully control. The mansion, once a place of comfort, now felt like a gilded cage, one that he was desperate to escape.

But as he thought about Adaliya, about the way she had brought light into his dark world, he realized that maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Hope for a different future, one where he wasn't defined by his father's rules or his mother's illness. One where he could be free.

And as he sat down with his book, trying to lose himself in its pages, Nathaniel couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him, and whether he would have the strength to face it.